Sleepless Nights
by xBroken-Glassx
Summary: Ryan can't sleep...and neither can Troy. With a combination of sleep deprivation and random conversation, it looks like it's going to be a long night for everyone. Future!Fic. Est. Tryan.


**A/N: **I'm done trying to edit the shit out of this. Purely just for fun. No fancy techniques or attempt to write at an extraordinary level of genius - just something that you can sit down and read and enjoy. I know I tagged humor, but it's not that funny, it's just light-spirited. Just a drabble/musing into a conversation that the duo could have during hours of insomnia. Because, you know, when you're in a relationship with someone, I would think that you would actually talk to them about different stuff - not just make out and mutter about how much you love each other. But maybe that's just me.

For the record, I do understand why people write the way they do. I know I kind of did some detail bashing, but I personally don't feel that way in real life. I understand its purpose in a story, so don't challenge me on it.

I also didn't mean to hint to Ryan's insecurities. It was supposed to be all around light-hearted, but I naturally started to turn to the source of his frustrations with the topic. So, I apologize for that. And the slight OOC due to extreme exhaustion.

* * *

**Sleepless Nights**

It had been the perfect atmosphere for sleep. The sky was clear with hardly any wind, and it was nearly dark enough that there was hardly a difference between opening and closing the eyes. The squeaking trinkets that were starting to drive him ballistic had finally ceased to speak, and the warmth of his sheets and comforter only prodded him closer to the luxury of his unconsciousness. He'd become reluctant to rest, especially since it seemed that whenever he tried, he was disrupted. But for once, all was silent. Not a single sound resonated to keep him up any further. He remained slightly suspicious, waiting for something to speak up and keep him awake, but as each second passed without audio, he slowly allowed each muscle to relax, bringing him ever so nearer to successful slumber…

"I hate romances."

Troy's eyes flicked open. _So close_. Now he was certain that the sleep he oh so desired would never come. It was starting to become a routine with Ryan now – each day leaving him more distraught than the last. His partner's tired and frustrated composure was concealed quite nicely during the daylight hours, but once the night came and they'd both been up and down for a few hours, it faltered into these insane babblings. Troy could hardly remember the last time he'd obtained a good night's sleep; hell, even a four-hour rest was one to fancy. But just like the night before and the night previous to that, he'd listen to Ryan's strange incoherent musings, wondering when the younger would finally doze. To his credit, though, this topic held some interest; very unlike the night before when Ryan went on a rant about mashed vegetables.

"Hmm, why," Troy asked, his curiosity slightly piqued, even though he knew better than to encourage him, for it only condemned him to another sleepless night.

"One word: unrealistic," Ryan replied easily, shifting in his bed sheets. Troy could hear the insomnia in his voice, which left his logic in a stream of monotony. And if it weren't for the fact that Troy also suffered from this condition, he would probably find Ryan's proposition comical. "It makes real life so dull after watching characters – with extremely flawed personalities, mind you – live out the most _passionate_ and _romantic_ love story anyone's ever heard of. Sets up a false image in your head that every relationship is going to be so…" he struggled to find a word for a while, before he threw in one that fit the scenario, "perfect."

"It's possible," Troy insisted numbly as his head remained focused on his consistent yearning for a menial two minutes of deep sleep to rejuvenate himself for tomorrow. _Two minutes, God, is it really that hard?_ He questioned in his own cracked up thought process. There was only a dead space in hopes for a response.

"No, it's not possible," Ryan had continued saying. "If you're so in 'love' with someone that you're willing to put yourself through bodily harm at the risk of being separated from them – that's not love. That's no self-esteem, and you should really see a counselor if you feel that way."

"That's just one example," he insisted.

"No that's the _passion_ part. Translation: needy. And everyone knows that romantic is equated with horny, so I'm not even going to go there." Troy shifted awkwardly in the dark as he tried to face him the best he could. Having no light didn't help him much, but he could just make out the outline of Ryan's head against his pillow.

"Nuh-uh," he argued. "If a guy buys a girl flowers on their anniversary, that's romantic. Not 'horny'."

"Oh, sorry," Ryan edited, uncontained sarcasm leaking into his tone just a little. "It's made up of sex _and_ clichés. Thanks for reminding me."

"I think you're trying to insult me now," he accused, staring at the dark shadow he presumed was Ryan's face.

"I didn't say that," he replied quickly. "I'm just saying that in movies and stuff, they're too dramatic and unrealistic – built up on things that are dumb. And that's why romances suck."

"Well, real people sometimes do those things too," he tried arguing. "It's not 'just in movies'."

"And the fact that they always appear awkward and dumb to everybody else when they do it just proves my point," Ryan countered with ease.

"Whatever," Troy said, trying to shake the subject. He knew Ryan didn't exactly have all the screws in his head fastened tightly at this hour, but he seemed to completely neglect the fact that he was on the receiving end of some of those romantic shenanigans he was criticizing now. Maybe not so much recently since they outgrew their 'honeymoon phase' of being a couple years ago, but when they'd first started dating, they'd both been suckers for the romantic ploys of expressing the feelings they'd been too shy to say. Although, now that Troy thought about it, Ryan's attention span had always been significantly smaller whenever they saw a chick-flick or a romantic-comedy. Perhaps the plotlines were a bit trite in those movies – Troy gave him that – but he still enjoyed films that had a romantic storyline tucked in there. Surely, Ryan couldn't be counting those too.

"The books suck too," Ryan continued, making Troy's attempt to quit the conversation futile. "Shar always had those uh – who's that author? – they were really popular for a while. Nicholas Star, Spa, Sparks? Anyways, if I end up being stuck with one of those books or a stupid Harlequin again, I'm going to punch someone in the face. I don't know what annoys me more – having to read overly in-depth descriptions of the characters I don't give a rat's ass about, or having to listen to girls squeal over them like they're the best thing since the Neanderthals figured out how to make fire." Troy listened as an edge in his boyfriend's voice rose progressively in his speech. By the time he finished, he was close to shouting, which only resulted in Troy shushing him.

"There's no point in getting loud," he reprimanded, before adding. "I also think you're biased."

"Oh really, how so?" he challenged. "I've always been this way, Troy. Even when Shar and I were kids, she adored Cinderella meeting her prince at the ball while I remained fascinated by her dress. After all, the transformation of her torn rags to a pristine ball gown just amazed me." Troy released a small sigh of a laugh, the closest he could get to a chuckle when his body was so leaden with fatigue.

"I just think you're biased because they're all aimed at girls," he replied. "And anything that involves a girl counterpart wouldn't _ever_ appeal to you." This quieted him for a moment, as he couldn't think of a way to rebuff that one. Troy adjusted himself so that he could fall asleep pretty easily, although Ryan's comment was bound to wake him again.

"It's just the descriptions," he tried explaining. "It's like every little patch of skin is put under a microscope. Why would I ever care if a character's eyes are brown, or if they have freckles, or if their hands are warm? I mean seriously. This goes back to my main point: unrealistic. Nobody thinks of their boyfriend or girlfriend that way in real life, so why should we even mention it like it's the most important aspect of the character in the novel?"

"What do you mean nobody thinks of real relationships that way? That's _all_ they do in the first months of dating," Troy insisted. "It's basically a questionnaire of what your favorites are and why. The person asking just tries to keep track of all the answers."

"Yeah, but eye color?" Ryan asked. "That's just ridiculous."

"Not really."

"I think so."

"Why? _I_ know what your eye color is, and I know I'm not the only one who pays attention to that stuff," he reasoned. "It's not as uncommon as you think."

"Oh really," he said sarcastically. "What color is it then?"

"Blue," he didn't even hesitate. Like multiplying ten and zero. The room was awfully still. Troy wished he could see his expression in the dark.

"Lucky guess," Ryan muttered unhappily to himself.

"It wasn't a guess," he insisted. "Do you seriously not know my eye color?"

"Of course I know your eye color," he said, back-pedaling from his argument now that he was losing this particular battle.

"Oh yeah, what is it then," it was a challenge.

"Brown." A complete stab in the dark. Troy wasn't sure how to respond to that. Did Ryan actually spend this entire relationship not knowing what his eye color was? Suddenly, there seemed to be a list of things Troy now had to question Ryan's knowledge of.

"They're blue, Ry, blue," he corrected. "How could you not know this?"

"I guess it just wasn't that important to me," he said in his defense. "When I look you in the face and I talk to you, I talk to you. I don't stand there analyzing every detail!"

"Good Lord, how are we dating," Troy questioned. "When I talk to you, all I can think about while we're talking is how you're smiling, or how your eyes lighten at good news, or how you bite your lip when you're nervous – sometimes excited too, or how you wrinkle your nose when you're absolutely disgusted. I mean really, can you honestly tell me that you've never made observations like that before?"

"Okay, I'm not totally unfeeling," Ryan admitted after a small pause. "Whenever I had a crush on someone, I always went full out, like what you described. Took in everything about their appearance and personality and made a secret note of it. I guess I, I'm just used to seeing your face now."

"Comforting," Troy remarked, unimpressed.

"Hey, don't be like that," he chastised. "It just means I don't have to recreate an image of you out of my observations. You're just here." The conversation sort of just drifted from there, leaving them both to the silence of the room. Troy let his mind wander, leading him to the sleep he'd been wanting the entire time. Not that he didn't find their conversation interesting, but that he really couldn't keep up this pace of being up night after night.

"Troy," Ryan called out to him. He grunted his response, his ears only half listening. "There's one more reason why I don't like romances." He paused for a response, but none came. Ryan sat up a little, trying to see in the stifling darkness if Troy was even awake. He couldn't make out anything, and decided to wrap himself up in the covers again.

"The truth is I really don't like all the sex," he confessed. "And it's not just because a girl is involved. It's just…I don't know. I'd like to believe a relationship is made up of more than just the physical stuff, you know. Like it actually means something – not just 'you're hot and good in bed'. I don't know…all those movies and books of people hooking up within a week, supposedly with 'the one' and screwing them in the same week just doesn't sit right with me." He released a deep breath, changing his visual focus from the ceiling to the general direction of the man sleeping next to him. "And then there's the stuff that happens in real life – all the loose sex and open relationships and infidelity. I hate all of it – because how are you supposed to know if your relationship is real when so much could go wrong and the only thing you can look up to is a fictitious relationship that is built up on all the wrong things: appearance and sex. I just…I don't know…it makes it hard to believe that an actual relationship can exist, you know?" Again, he waited for a reaction, a movement – something, but it didn't come. Maybe he really was asleep after all.

"You did it right," Ryan concluded softly. "Everything that I expected in a relationship you went ahead and did. I know I don't tell you that enough – that's just not how we are – but I love you for it." He smiled to himself, his brain dwelling over the words he just said aloud, before he finally let his eyes close.

"I know," Troy replied, his voice muffled by his pillow, slightly impressed that they actually finished one of their night conversations before the first signs of day. He wasn't about to question it though as he let himself sink into his sleeping state. Maybe a few hours of sleep was attainable after all.

Hardly five minutes had passed when a shrill noise woke them both up. Troy opened his eyes, slightly startled by the sound while Ryan sprung upright, his mind and movements put in a frenzy.

"Damn-it, just one night – **one night** – is that too much to ask," he asked to no one in particular through clenched teeth. "I swear…"

Troy stopped him, gently grabbing his shoulders and forcing eye contact, even when he couldn't make out a single feature on his face. "It's okay, it's okay," he assured him several times over, his voice quiet, soothing. "I'll get it." He waited until Ryan had calmed down a bit before he left the comfort of his bed and started for the door of their bedroom. He had been right from the start: there was no hope for sleep.

Ryan continued to sit upright for a bit, staring aimlessly in the dark while he waited for the cries to stop. Even when they slowly started to cease, with the low hum of Troy's voice there to accompany it, his brain was a little delayed in registering that the child was fine and that he could lie down. As he wrapped himself in the warmth of his blankets, he comforted himself with the knowledge that he could finally go to sleep without further disruption. And with a note of finality, a light smile was carved beneath his closed eyes as he tallied yet another victory over Troy Bolton – as he had every night previous this past week.


End file.
